


Nightmares

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Freedom, Friendship, Gen, House Lannister, House Stark, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knight, Male-Female Friendship, Nightmares, Philosophy, Queen Sansa, Queen in the North, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark doesn’t sleep often, too haunted by her years in King’s Landing to ever feel safe when her eyes are closed. So it is not uncommon to see the Queen of the North wandering the castle or sitting in the library or kitchens. It is even less unusual to see her wandering or sitting quietly with Jaime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> It happened, just a glimpse into Jaime and Sansa's life while she is Queen in the North.

Sansa Stark doesn’t sleep often, too haunted by her years in King’s Landing to ever feel safe when her eyes are closed. So it is not uncommon to see the Queen of the North wandering the castle or sitting in the library or kitchens. It is even less unusual to see her wandering or sitting quietly with Jaime. The first time they were spotted together, they had nearly startled the cook that had wandered into the kitchen in the early morning to find Sansa sitting at one of the wooden tables, reading a small book and eating a small bowl of nuts while Jaime carved a piece of softwood. So it was not so surprising that this particular night is just like all the others. Sansa sits quietly at one of the wooden tables reading a letter from Jon at the Wall and picking at food left out for her by the servants with Jaime sitting quietly on the other edge of the corner.

Having always known that Jaime would tell her what kept him awake at nights when he was ready, she never pushed him into telling her. They had gone nearly an entire winter in silence, not speaking even a greeting when they spent their nights together, so Sansa was surprised when he picked tonight of all nights to break that silence. This particular night is not special and she doesn’t know why he picked it, but she doesn’t ask.

“I can still hear her screams,” he says into the stillness that surrounds them, “Some nights when I close my eyes I see her body, lying there with a cloak of my own House wrapped around her. Other nights I see his body, laying there beside his sister. I was glad when I killed him and I shouldn’t have been, not as a member of the Kingsguard.”

Sansa stops chewing her piece of spoiled bread and sets down the letter.

“Who?” is all she asks, though she has a good idea.

“Rhaella, Rhaenys, little Aegon, the Mad King, take your pick,” he tells her, looking away in a vain attempt to keep her from seeing the tears in his eyes, she doesn’t say anything. “I only joined the Kingsguard to be close to Cersei and avoid marrying your aunt. In another life I might have been your uncle.” Sansa notices the affectionate smile that crosses his face at the thought, but it’s quickly soured by whatever horrible memory haunts him. “I was sworn to protect Queen Rhaella. She was my Queen and I loved her quite fiercely. She was kind and gentle and so very unhappy. I never left her side and we grew close. She allowed me to play with little Rhaenys and Aegon when she went to visit Princess Elia. While Rhaegar and I shared no love or affection, I cared deeply for his mother, wife, and children. One night I was forced to stand guard at the Queen’s door and listen as my King raped and mutilated her for hours. I listened as she cried and screamed and I could do nothing. I spent the next four days at her bedside, Princess Elia asleep in the bed with Rhaella, Rhaenys at my feet, and Aegon in my lap. I grew to love them more fiercely than I ever did my own family. Young Viserys was a sweet boy then, though they say the horrors of what was done to his family rotted away his mind in the end. He used to run around my legs and pull at my tunic when Queen Rhaella went on walks.” His face turns even more distraught and Sansa can see the shame that enters his eyes, “Then your grandfather and uncle came to court…”

Sansa stiffens as she remembers the whispers of how they died and she feels her blood run cold.

“Their screams will never cease to echo. I was forced to listen as the King grew madder, plotting to burn the city, and say nothing. When my father came to King’s Landing after Rhaella and the prince had been sent away, I knew he was going to burn the city; but it wasn’t why I did it.”

“Why then?” Sansa asks, though she thinks she knows the reason if she knows Jaime at all.

“Because I heard them. I heard every scream Rhaella ever made, every cry Rhaenys ever sobbed, every plea for life the monster ever heard before he burned them alive. I couldn’t let him live another moment. The minute I killed him, my father’s men came in and I realized they’d all know and I’d never be gone from the stain of it.” He’s half crying and Sansa wants nothing more than to hold him, but she knows he’ll take it as a slight and stays put.

“I hear Joffrey,” she says instead. She knows he probably suspected that, but he remains quiet and half turned so she cannot see him. “I hear him call for my father’s head. I hear him order his Kingsguard to strip me of my dress. I hear him order them to leave my face pretty. I hear him tell me my brother is dead and I hear him taunt me for it. I hear Cersei’s screams as he lay dying. I hear Petyr call me Alayne. I hear him call me my mother’s name when he came to my bed. Worst of all, I hear Robb, from when we were still quite small, telling me he will always be my prince come to save me. There is the briefest of moments when I wake, where I expect to see him sitting there on my bed like when we were children, waiting for me to wake so we could run about the gardens before breaking our fast in mother’s solar.” Sansa smiles sadly as she remembers the ghosts of the past.

“We will never be free of it,” he says and it’s the first time since he first spoke that he looks at her.

“Freedom is in the eyes of man,” she tells him, retrieving another piece of spoiled bread from the basket, “Who is free? The highborn who dance and eat and ride through war and are traded like livestock to be battered and bruised and tortured? Or the lowborn that work all their lives for empty bellies and sickness, but can marry and love at will?” She takes a bite, giving him the faintest of a smile.

  
“Is anyone free then?” Jaime asks and all she can do is shrug her shoulders before silence falls over them once again.


End file.
